Don't Look Back
by a. loquita
Summary: Sequel to All Roads Lead to Your Heart
1. When there's something strange

"Don't Look Back"  
The sequel to "All Roads Lead to Your Heart"

Part 1: When there's something strange

Even since Regan was born Assumpta stopped having overnight guests. On the rare occasion that a friend of someone in the village was desperate, she would make an exception, but it was rare. Therefore, Assumpta didn't need to serve early breakfast and ever since, the mornings were family time.

Peter liked to wake his wife with his hands and his lips. Later, they would spend time as a family talking or playing games with Regan. It was Peter's favorite time of the day, quiet, peaceful and happy. Eleven o'clock would come eventually, the pub would open and life got crazy, loud, and busy.

Most days after the lunch crowd was gone, Peter was usually out for the afternoon. This term he was taking sociology, psychology, and an early childhood development course. Those classes consumed two days out of his week. Other days, Peter went along with Michael to visit the sick and elderly in the community or sometimes over to the school if Brendan was having a problem with one of the children. Then Peter made sure to be home in time to put Regan to bed and help with the nightly rush of customers. He loved the routine of life they had settled into together.

This particular morning, however, Peter rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty. The clock read 4:24 AM in digital numbers. It was not like Assumpta to ever be up this early, so he was concerned and confused for a moment. Then Peter realized what woke him, the sound of her over the toilet, and he cringed. Since Christmas three weeks ago Assumpta was sick constantly, not just in the morning, and she was miserable.

Peter got up and crossed to the door which was open an inch, he peeked in. Assumpta was sitting on the floor. His t-shirt, the one she had worn to bed, was pulled over her bent knees and down her legs. With her head in her hands taking deep breaths, Assumpta looked like a hurt little girl hiding in the corner, and Peter's heart melted for her.

He asked, "Can I get you something?" and startled her so added, "sorry."

"No, nothing helps," Assumpta groaned, "and I've tried everything Michael suggested. I think it will get better in its own time, at least that's what happened with Regan."

Peter stepped inside and sat cross-legged on the floor facing her, they hardly fit in the space between the tub and the toilet.

"Look what I found." Assumpta tossed him a book.

One look at the cover and Peter recognized it as the purchase he made before they were married so that he hopefully wouldn't disappoint her on their wedding night, or ever.

"You were reading this?" Peter asked as he flipped though pages.

"I was looking for something to read between the waves of nausea and I found it on the end of the bookshelf. You realize soon Regan'll be old enough that she could find that."

"Then we won't have to explain to her how she got her new little brother or sister because the pictures make it clear enough I'd say… Oh, we should try this." He held it open and showed her a page.

Assumpta snorted. "Trust me, neither of us are flexible enough for that."

He considered, then, "Are you happy with us? I mean what we do?"

"Of course, how could you ask such a thing?"

"Because I've heard enough in the confession box to know that there are husbands who can't satisfy their wives and wives often that cover up and fake it, in order to spare their husband's feelings."

"In the confession box…?" This stunned Assumpta.

"You'd be amazed at the things I've heard. A happy, fulfilling 20-year marriage ruined because her husband fumbled and was selfish and not once in 20 years did she-"

"The poor woman should be granted sainthood."

Peter gave her a look, "I'm actually going somewhere with this if you'd let me…"

"Right, sorry."

"This was the one and only flaw in their otherwise happy marriage. They loved each other but this flaw was enough to ruin everything. She ended up having an affair."

Assumpta finished off his logic. "So you bought that book to ensure you did not ruin us."

He met her eyes. "Do you really enjoy our love life or do you, ah, spare feelings?"

"Peter," her voice was mocking, "when have I ever spared your feelings on anything?"

He thought for a minute on that. "There is a first time for even the most absurd and impossible."

He grinned as Assumpta rolled her eyes. Sometimes it was just too easy to get her. But Peter kept at her; she wasn't going to get away with joking it away.

"It has been more than three weeks since the last time we made love," he said. "I didn't want to assume it's only because you're feeling sick these days. I want to make sure there isn't another reason you're holding back."

Assumpta took the book lying between them and absently flipped through it.

She said firmly, "There is no other reason. I feel this way and I just can't be in the right mood for us and you're missing it I know, I am too. But it'll go the other way. Once the sick feeling went away I was nearly fainting every time you were near when I was carrying Regan. You put your arm around me and I had to fight to keep from takin' you right in the middle of the pub once." She sighed and her voice got softer. "Tell you what, aye, if you can be a little patient I will make up for these weeks."

"Promises, promises," Peter teased.

She was trying hard to make it off-handed but her voice carried her worry despite her best efforts, "I am sorry."

"Don't be, I'm okay." Peter was anxious to reassure her, with how miserable Assumpta was feeling he didn't want her worried about this too. "I spent years being celibate I think I can handle a few weeks."

It still made her uncomfortable sometimes when Peter's days as a priest came up and her automatic response was for a shiver to go up her spine. With it, a thought clicked into place.

Assumpta looked up and asked, "I thought you never could speak of things confessed to you?"

"That one wasn't actually in the confessional… loophole."

"Ah, right. What the world needs are more priests lookin' for loopholes."

It was the typical sort of comment from Assumpta but her heart just wasn't in it this time. Instead, her mind was wrestling with how comfortable he was speaking about confessions. How much fondness there was in Peter's voice. Still. As if he missed it. And it nagged at her like a blister on the bottom of her foot.

Later that morning, Assumpta was signing off on the receipts from her supplier as Regan, on her hands and knees, scurried toward the open pub door. Father Aiden caught the baby girl just as she got her hands on the walk out front.

He picked her up and asked, "Where's your Mammy?" Carrying her inside Aiden spotted Assumpta and waited until the paperwork was finished between her and the supplier.

Before looking up, Assumpta told the potential customer, "I'm sorry we're not open just yet-" but then she did look up, to the sight of a priest holding her daughter, Assumpta considered the advantages of fainting.

Father Aiden, feeling as uncomfortable as he always did around Assumpta, tried to explain, "She was crawling out the door."

Assumpta took it as an insult to her mothering skills. Something she was always a bit testy on since everyone, including those not of the clergy, were always complimenting on how wonderful a father Peter was but no one said two words about her abilities. She took Regan from him in a manner that made Father Aiden feel as if he'd just been caught stealing the silver.

Father Aiden felt he should get his visit over with as quick as possible. "I was looking for Peter."

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"I could use some help with the accounts and Kathleen suggested it. She said Peter's… ah… best talent was keeping up with the books."

Assumpta's eyes narrowed, "She said 'only' talent." When Aiden looked uncomfortable again, Assumpta added, "Kathleen has never and will never give my," she emphasized the word hard, "husband a compliment. So don't you come into in my pub telling me lies."

"I only came to ask for help."

"It's not his responsibility, it's yours. Peter doesn't have the time since he has a whole life now that does not include your accounts." She turned on her heel with Regan in her arms and stormed into the kitchen.

Later, Assumpta was trying to forget the incident as she washed up glasses behind the bar in a nearly empty pub. Brendan had come from school to join Padraig for a pint. Brendan sat with Regan on his lap, supporting her with one arm and lifting the pint with the other. Regan was giggling and babbling nonsense at him.

"You're a happy baby aren't you?" Brendan said, and she giggled at him. "Too much for that Leo to be your Daddy."

Assumpta ignored Brendan. He never told her directly, of course, it wasn't really his place. But now and again Brendan found ways to get his jibe in that he never approved of Leo.

Brendan kept talking to Regan. "No, it would have to be someone extreme so as to overcome the obstacles of your Mom's genetic material."

He looked up to see if Assumpta was listening to his teasing. Brendan was the only one that could get away with going this far. Evidenced by the fact that to this day, he was the only one in Ballykay she hadn't at one time or another­ threatened to bar. But Assumpta did throw things at him, and if Brendan didn't keep an eye on her, he wouldn't be ready to duck.

"We wish it were someone good," Brendan goaded, "overly good all the time. Don't we?" He asked the baby girl. Then after a beat, turned to Padraig, "Whatever happened to that Father Clifford guy?"

Padraig shrugged, playing along. "Heard he was trying to reunite the Spice Girls and become the 6th spice." Padraig's lips twitched as he paused for the drama of the punch line, "Doggy Collar Spice."

Brendan countered, "Wholesome Spice."

"Pollyanna Spice."

"Saintly Spice."

Assumpta snapped, "Oh for God's sake."

When Father Mac walked in next, Padraig quickly changed subjects. "The new curate speaks so softly we can hardly hear the homily."

Brendan gave Padraig a look of 'why do you care?' Father Mac sighed like he was carrying the weight of humanity on his shoulders and Padraig had just added another nation.

"He's doing his best," Fr. Mac explained, "and I am being patient. There is that saying, 'You don't know what you had until it's gone,' and as it turns out Peter Clifford wasn't as bad as I once thought. Actually, for a Clifford it turns out he is the best of the lot. His brothers are heathens."

Brendan and Padraig chuckled. Father Mac never discovered their involvement in the fiasco of Peter and Assumpta's wedding night last year. The plan was to disturb the newlyweds. Only to the surprise of the conspirators involved they found Father Mac sleeping off his liquor in Assumpta's room instead. Father Mac's own surprise was promptly followed by his running the four Clifford boys out of town, never knowing there was a local resistance movement as well.

Padraig asked casually, "Recovered yet from the fright?"

Father Mac put a hand to his chest, "Not quite."

Assumpta kept her face neutral the entire conversation until Father Mac turned to address her, so she put on her best glare for him.

"Assumpta, I've heard vicious rumors for weeks now that you were seen in church at mass on Christmas Day."

She raised an eyebrow. "You find out who's spreading those vicious rumors and I'll-"

But Father Mac cut her off, "Put them in the path of your brothers-in-law?"

"Sounds like a plan." Then she felt the rolling and twisting in her stomach, "Excuse me," Assumpta mumbled and dashed off to the confusion of the three men. Assumpta hung over the toilet and groaned and complained in her head that this baby was getting in the way of running the pub properly.

The following week Ballykay was experiencing record cold. Snow accumulation was even predicted in places not at the highest altitudes and the suggestion alone was enough to keep most people snug in their homes. Except the pub's regulars who were meeting in Fitzgerald's to plan for the tourist season that began months from now.

Brendan and Siobhan had already been at the pub most of the evening. It was becoming a habit to put Aisling down in Regan's nursery until closing time. Niamh, Ambrose, Liam, Donel, and a handful of others were there as well. Brain was explaining to them the changes he was proposing in the festival for the coming spring.

Peter handed over a glass while saying, "Siobhan, I am reminding you again this year, I am not climbing up after you and rescuing you or a sheep."

"Ram."

"Whatever it is. It, and you, get stuck up somewhere and I'm leaving you there."

Assumpta held back a smile as she pulled a pint. The funniest part was that no one believed Peter would hesitate for a second to go to any heights to help one of his friends. Drunk or sober, smart or stupid, high or low, as much as Peter lectured he'd be there to rescue them no matter the circumstances.

Assumpta's heart swelled a little, she found reasons every day to love him even more than ever. It was remarkable that after all this time, after a baby, and marriage, and all the newness of intimacy wore off she still found her love for Peter growing. He did amaze her constantly.

Brain's head snapped up in surprise, he'd always know Siobhan was behind it but the ever-honest Father Clifford was the last person he would have included in a conspiracy. He addressed Peter, "You helped that sheep escape?"

"Ram," Siobhan corrected again.

Niamh added, "I don't believe it." She still had difficulty seeing Peter as something other than a priest. But certainly in those days, Father Clifford was somewhat above the law in her mind.

Peter felt the need to defend himself so he turned on the only other available victim. "Assumpta helped too."

Brian commented, "Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

Almost simultaneous was Brendan's observation. "Well now the story's gettin' more interesting."

Assumpta only looked at Peter as if to say 'now you've done it.'

Siobhan noted, "But that wooden ram has been in demand every year since so."

"It has," Brain agreed, "but that does not entitle you to a cut of the profits. This year Eamon and I will be conducting a direct to the public sale during the festival due to the demands of folks wanting to take home their own wooden sheep."

"Demands of his pocketbook, more like." Padraig elbowed Brendan.

Peter asked, "What does one do with their very own wooden sheep?"

"Ram," Siobhan complained and then drank deeply from her beer wondering why she bothered.

"I don't know," Brain answered Peter, "use your imagination."

Brendan elbowed Padraig back. "Dangerous advice depending on who you're giving it too."

"And that brings me to ask you, Peter, if you'd lend a hand," Brian turned his head, "I'll be on the stage, of course, but I'll need a competent person running things from behind the scenes."

"Not Liam or Donel?" Brendan asked.

"I said competent."

Peter met Assumpta's eyes and when she didn't give an indication that she cared one way or the other, Peter shrugged his shoulders. He answered Brian, "I'll help if you need me."

Brendan noticed Assumpta looking pale and tired these last weeks. But tonight, even more than she did right after Regan was born.

Padraig got up to use the toilet and Brendan moved over to his seat. As the others were busy talking with Brian about the festival preparations, Brendan leaned into Assumpta.

He asked quietly, "You alright?"

"Fine," she answered.

"Only you're lookin' a bit pale. It's not good for the baby to push yourself."

She stared at Brendan, confused for a second, thinking that Peter might have told even though they had agreed not to say anything just yet.

Brendan reminded, "If you catch something you'll pass it to Regan."

Ah, that baby, Assumpta caught on. She said, "I'm fine. Only tired. Regan's been up nights again recently."

Peter separated from the discussion around Brain and put his arm around his wife, listening.

Brendan suggested, "Orla's said she was looking for work, if you need help round here."

"Orla?" Assumpta tried to place the name, vaguely remembering someone new, now living in Ballykay. Someone she hadn't yet run into.

"Father Aiden's sister," Brendan supplied.

Peter took two steps back at that point anticipating the tirade about the clergy, family of the clergy, dogs owned by the clergy, rats that by chance ventured into a house that the clergy once had tea in, never being under her roof. Assumpta always seemed to conveniently forget about Peter's former vocation and the fact that she now shared a bed with him during those tirades, which made it difficult to take them all that seriously.

Instead, Assumpta surprised Peter by only saying, "I'll think about it."

It was a late night again in Fitzgerald's and the snow never came. But throughout the following week it remained bitterly cold. Tonight, Peter was snuggled into bed with his wife snoring softly.

Assumpta loved her sleep and there wasn't much that easily woke her from it. But a person who receives a middle-of-the-night call with word that someone you love is dead, that is the sort of experience that remains in one's subconscious and heart for a lifetime. Her eyes opened instantly at the sound of the phone and Assumpta grabbed the extension, "Yes."

"Assumpta," it was Michael's voice, just like always telling her that her mother was gone and loss and fear swept through, she was alone now.

"What happened?" she asked.

But her mind registered Peter's soft snore behind her. His arm was around her and his hand, with fingers spread, cradled her belly. Already the protective father. Assumpta took a breath as the past faded from her and the present came into focus.

From over the line, "Assumpta, I'm sorry to wake you and startle you," Michael replied and cringed. He hadn't even thought of it until now, when the same young, breathless voice on the other end tried to stay strong and steady. It had been many years and so much had changed that he'd almost forgotten about calling Assumpta away at school with terrible news of her mother.

Michael rushed his words in a guilty attempt to reassure now. "Everything's fine. It's… something happened but not to someone you know. I need Peter's help and I called hoping to speak with him." Michael's voice was filled with sympathy as he repeated, "I'm sorry I woke you."

The phone didn't wake Peter, but Assumpta's voice did. Instinctively, his arm tightened around her as Peter opened his eyes and lifted his head trying to shake sleep and gauge what was going on.

Assumpta was handing him the phone saying, "It's Doctor Ryan. He needs your help."

It took only a few seconds for Michael to outline what had happened, a nineteen-year-old had been out drinking with friends and tried to drive home in the winding country hills. The accident was so terrible it was doubtful she'd make it through the night and her parents were at emergency now and falling apart with grief.

Assumpta got up with him. Peter protested that she should go back to bed, that for once she wasn't up sick she should take advantage and catch up on lost sleep.

But Assumpta wouldn't listen. "I'll drive you," she said, not asked.

He began pulling on pants and almost laughed, "Then who's going to look after Regan?"

She'd forgotten about Regan, how could a mother do such a thing? Assumpta was chastising herself as she explained to Peter, "I- I was thinking of before. Taking you to that mountainy man, I suppose." He smiled at the memory.

She compromised, "I'll make you coffee and put it in a thermos."

Peter watched her leave the room. Assumpta was acting strange but he didn't have time to sort it out.

A few minutes later, Peter was dressed and at the pub's main door. Assumpta kissed his cheek and then handed him the thermos. As Peter turned to leave she grasped his arm. When he turned, Assumpta put her arms around Peter's neck and kissed him fully on the lips in a way she hadn't in weeks.

As he drove, Peter considered his wife and how sick she'd been feeling. This kissing wasn't about making up for lost time now. It was something weighing on her. Not that he was complaining about those meaningful kisses because it'd been long enough. Too long in his mind, though he'd never tell her.

Peter was halfway to the hospital when he figured it out, she was worried about him driving half-asleep. Former priests didn't make as thick and slow of a husband as some people thought. Peter congratulated himself because Brendan was forever saying that.

Once Peter arrived he rang home, "I made it fine so stop worrying. It's bad for the baby."

"Me, worry about your driving?" Her sarcasm clear over the line, "When you were taught by the best?"

"She is that." He heard her exhale. "Now go rest."


	2. Who ya gonna call?

Part 2: Who Ya Gonna Call?

Peter approached the Sullivan's just as Father Aiden was saying, "Perhaps God needs her now for an angel or a sunbeam."

Peter wanted to roll his eyes. He loathed those sorts of comments, they never helped and only made the clergy sound insensitive and out of touch.

Peter knew it was obvious to anyone how heart wrenching it must be for these people to have their daughter lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life. But he considered, didn't he understand them now on a new level? One he never could have reached as a priest but only now as a Dad himself? Peter's heart caught at the mere thought of Regan hurt or dying and knew he'd be broken, lost, tortured beyond words if something happened to her. Could he have understood that kind of love before?

The fact was, Peter suddenly realized, the clergy were out of touch. He knew he could better counsel and support these grieving parents today than when he was in Father Aiden's shoes.

Peter sat next to the Sullivans and asked them to tell him about Katie. They poured out story after story, Peter skillfully keeping them talking with a short question or comment, leading them to keep going on. He and Father Aiden heard all about Katie's love of cats and bringing home her first stray at age 6. Her plans to become a vet one day, her love of Beatles music, animals, flowers, and playing cards with her Dad.

Peter smiled at them and said, "She sounds like a young version of my friend Siobhan Mehigan, have you ever met her?"

"We have, once when Katie's cat Miles was ill several years ago," Mr. Sullivan said.

"When Katie pulls through we'll be sure to have her met Siobhan again," Peter replied. "I'm sure she'd love to have Katie along to help on some calls and learn some of the skills necessary to become a vet."

Mrs. Sullivan's eyes filled with tears and her voice was shaky. "But only if she gets through this."

Peter took her hand. "I don't know Katie, but from all those stories you've been telling me it sounds like she loves life and has every reason to fight. We can only pray and be here for her when she wakes." Peter turned to Father Aiden, who'd sat quietly watching the whole scene. "Father, could you lead us in a prayer?"

Father Aiden nodded and bowed his head. "Lord, we pray for Katie Sullivan tonight…."

Michael found them that way, all with heads bowed and eyes closed in prayer. Mrs. Sullivan seemed much calmer and Michael was certain he wouldn't have to give her a pill now. Peter Clifford, better than Valium, he thought, with an internal chuckle.

Then as the prayer ended, Michael said, "Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, the doctors say you can sit with Katie now."

Peter drove back to Ballykissangel just as the sun was rising and he stopped the car at the top of the ridge, overlooking the small village exactly at the same spot that first day with Assumpta at his side.

It had been a very long night, but Katie made it through and the doctors were running some tests today. Michael had driven her parents home to get some rest and Peter was anxious to get back home as well. He had an exam coming up he wasn't ready for, and Assumpta asked him yesterday to bring some stock up from the cellar, he hadn't gotten to that either. There was much to do.

But he felt grand, like a king on his throne in this moment. He had a beautiful wife that he loved and she loved him in return. They had a wonderful little girl and another baby on the way. They had friends, family, and the pub they loved. All was right with the world or at least his tiny corner of the world. How blessed he was, Peter thought, and sent up a short prayer of thanks before driving the last distance home.

"She made it through," Peter was telling Assumpta about it as she changed Regan. "That's something, and her parents are doing all right I suppose. I mean considering…"

Assumpta could hear the slight hitch in his voice. As much as Peter loved to help people, no one but Assumpta knew how much it took from him. He cared too deeply, if that could possibly be a flaw, but he took on their pain sometimes so much that he would grieve also. Add the fact that these were parents afraid for their daughter's life and Assumpta knew that only added to the grief. She finished with Regan, turned, and put her arms around Peter. "I'm proud of you."

His hands caressed slowly over her back. "You are? What for?"

"Just for being you," Assumpta said, squeezing him a bit tighter.

"Oh, that reminds me of something Father Aiden said last night about you."

She was sarcastic, "And you used to say such romantic things to me."

"Apparently you told him I wouldn't help with the Church accounts." He paused allowing Assumpta time to open up to him.

She was becoming increasingly edgy and quiet about the strangest things lately. It could be the pregnancy, but Peter felt that it was something else. Something that was bothering her, not in a big urgent way, but something small and yet Assumpta was still keeping it from him.

Peter was getting frustrated that she wouldn't just talk to him about it. He had to hear from Father Aiden about his encounter with Assumpta, not from her. If she couldn't talk about a confrontation with a priest– something that was predictable with Assumpta–how was she ever going to talk about important worries and problems she was hiding inside? Wasn't he her husband now and weren't they supposed to share everything? She'd come a long way but it still wasn't far enough by Peter's standards.

As the silence dragged on, Assumpta became concerned about how angry Peter was with her. He rarely got angry so she didn't have much practice on how to handle it. There were times when Peter Clifford was the most complicated man she'd known and because of that, difficult to open up to and talk to.

Assumpta tried to explain at least part of it. "I thought you were busy. You've got exams coming up, as well as Regan and the pub, and you have a problem saying 'No' to people who need help."

"I do not have a problem," Peter countered.

Any anger seemed to be slipping away and Assumpta breathed a sigh of relief. He smoothed one hand over her hair.

Peter said warmly, "You don't complain when I always say yes to you."

She teased him. "That's different. You're wearing a ring that says you'd better always say yes, or else."

"Funny, I don't recall that part of the ceremony."

It was getting to be a little like before her morning sickness, when they end up in bed by the end of all the flirting. But then Regan began fussing, wanting to be including in the attention her parents were giving each other.

Also Peter mentioned, "I don't mind and it won't take long. I was always quick but accurate with accounts, even the Bishop told me." It was said with such pride that Assumpta thought, there goes that nagging blister again.

Later that day, Peter drove past Siobhan and Brian's vehicles pulled over on the side of the road. Peter stopped and asked if they were all right.

Brain grumbled, "Fine, other than Siobhan's particularly cruel form of blackmail."

Peter sensed there wasn't a major problem here and they were working out whatever it was. So he joked, "She threatening the tranquilizers on you, Brian? I thought it was only Brendan that got the special treatment." Peter winked at her, "Glad to see you're equal opportunity, Siobhan."

Brain groaned. "Tranquilizers would be preferable, believe me."

"Oh, Siobhan, since I have you." Peter explained the situation with the Sullivan's and asked her to stop in at the hospital if she had a chance in the next few days. "I know it would mean a lot to them." And with her agreeing to it, Peter drove on.

Once Peter was gone, Siobhan got back to business. "Brain, make this deal and I won't ever ask for a cut of the profits."

"It was Peter anyway." Brain was exasperated. "Assumpta said he was the one that loaded the wooden sheep into the van and you were passed out in the front seat."

"I will ensure Peter and Assumpta won't demand a cut either." Siobhan could see he was beginning to give, money always swayed Quigley faster then anything else did. "You make up for that beauty contest, Brian Quigley."

"I've said I was sorry," he almost whined.

"You get them all to participate, then I'll believe that you're sorry."

"How am I going to convince all the men in the village to do this?" It was preposterous, Brian thought.

"Tell them you're raising money for charity, tell them anything, I don't care. That's you're problem, not mine." Siobhan got back in her car and drove off, leaving Brain seething in the dust from her tires.

Assumpta walked down the street slowly, enjoying the sunshine on her face despite the winter temperatures. She'd been mentally preparing herself for this. Now that Peggy had moved to Dublin for school and Niamh was willing to help but couldn't be relied on always. Peter was busy with school and community projects, Regan was growing and sleeping less and needing more attention, and the new baby was magnificent at throwing back up any sort of food or drink she took all day long... it all left her desperate for help at the pub.

Assumpta stepped up to the bright red door and paused, it was strange being here. She knocked and almost immediately the door was yanked open with force. A woman with long blonde hair and a rushed manner invited her in.

Assumpta reflect on how there was a time that if a woman, particularly a beautiful blond woman opened this door, she would have been fuming for days with a variety of emotions. Jealousy would have been the strongest and yet also the most indignantly denied in her own mind. There was a time.

Assumpta sat in the little kitchen where she once made a pot of tea before offering to stay with Peter and mind the baby left at his doorstep. She shivered a little, it felt so shadowed, like ghosts crossing her path and reminding her of the past. Yet at the same time, so distant and different from her life now. Once stealing a night with Peter by offering to help with the baby… and it was not charity on her part, it was selfish… But now, Assumpta never again had to play games and unconsciously she put a hand to her belly where their own baby was growing. It was the last thing Assumpta ever imagined on that night they cared for someone else's child– that someday she and Peter would have two of their own and spend every night together happily watching over their own growing family.

Orla hadn't met Assumpta Fitzgerald Clifford yet, but she'd heard plenty. One usually takes notice when the story involves a woman whose marriage didn't last the pregnancy. Then goes and marries a former priest. It was a plot from a Hollywood movie, only not the good kind. The sort where they can't get an actual actor to play the lead, not even a starving unknown so they hire a model or a rap star to do it. It was that unbelievable.

But the most unbelievable, in Orla's mind, was that no one treated any part of it as scandal. In fact, no one even treated it as unusual. She'd met Peter Clifford a few times and he had his daughter with him once. No one would suspect anything the way that man was devoted and enamored with that baby girl. It wasn't until weeks later Orla heard the real story told to her with a shrug of the shoulder, like it was nothing stranger than a sheep being sheered. The baby was another man's child and Peter, after having already given up his post, stepped in as father and husband.

Not that Orla much cared if people lived by strict morals or not, that was her brother's line of work. But it perplexed her that the woman now sitting across from her drinking tea didn't at all fit her imaginations after hearing the stories. This woman was petite, beautiful but didn't flaunt it, and her eyes said much more than she did. Assumpta also looked knackered and in need of a full 15 hours straight of sleep. Orla could tell she needed help at the pub before Assumpta even posed the question.

It took only five minutes to wrap up the business part of the conversation, it was decided that Orla would begin the following week. But the two women chatted for 40 minutes more. By the end, each had decided in her mind that they would get along just fine, and that the other didn't fit the preconceived notions held previously.

As it happened, it didn't take a week for Orla to begin helping out. Peter and Dr. Ryan were asked by the Sullivans to accompany them and Katie to Dublin. Katie had beaten the odds thus far and lived. Not just through the night following the auto accident, but ever since, and had gotten stronger each day. Now, the doctors in Cilldargan felt she needed specialized surgery that would be preformed in Dublin. The Sullivans felt they needed some support and had turned to those they trusted most, Dr. Ryan and Peter Clifford.

Assumpta rolled her eyes at her husband, though he didn't know it because she was turned away loading the wash into the machine. She repeated herself, "Go."

"No. You need me here and you come first."

Assumpta asked herself, was he trying to get her temper up just for sport? But instead, said aloud, "Go, I'm fine," her voice a little more insistent still, "I can handle a day or two."

"I know you can handle a day or two but you shouldn't have to."

"I hired Orla to help 'round here. You should go, you're needed. And I know it's important for you to help." She turned now and put her hands on her hips. That's how Peter knew Assumpta was going to fight him on this. It wasn't worth it.

He compromised. "I'm taking Regan with me so you're not overwhelmed and you can have some quiet."

"Right," Assumpta gave him a look, "with a full pub." But her mind was running the scenario through, a chance to have a break, a little quiet and she could take a bubble bath and read and sleep undisturbed.

Assumpta made it sound like a huge sacrifice, sighing, "Alright." But of course she knew Peter well, without her there'd be no stopping him. "Just don't spoil her, Peter."

"Spoil her? I do not."

"She has you wrapped around her finger."

Peter kissed Assumpta's cheek, "So do you," and went to pack.

Later that night, Assumpta closed up and sent Orla home.

"It's just you and me kid," Assumpta said aloud as she put a hand to her tummy.

It was too quiet. Too much like before when she was alone. Assumpta wandered around aimlessly through the rooms. She didn't like this, she'd forgotten. After Leo moved in here she thought it would be better. Niamh had asked Assumpta how she liked sharing her space. And she'd changed the subject because she didn't want to admit how difficult it was. Just anyone hadn't made it better. But how easily she slipped into a routine with Peter? She never once felt invaded, in fact, it felt natural.

Assumpta climbed into bed. Even after thirty minutes it was still cold and Assumpta got up to find another blanket. Peter was like a radiator next to her and she'd gotten used to not worrying about frozen fingers and toes every night.

It wasn't just the temperature either; she noticed the sounds outside tonight more than she ever did. All that time alone, Assumpta never once considered her safety, it was Ballykay after all not exactly the crime spree capital. But somehow being held by Peter night after night, Assumpta now knew a level of safety and security she never knew before. Suddenly without it, Assumpta couldn't go back. Where had that independent woman gone?

"Hurry home, Peter," Assumpta whispered in the dark.

She'd only been lying there for another 10 minutes when the youngest Clifford, once again, decided to make his or her presence known and Assumpta was at the toilet again. A short time later, she answered the ringing phone while wiping her mouth.

"Assumpta?" Peter asked from the other end of the telephone line, because it didn't quite sound like her.

She quipped, "You hoping for someone else instead?"

He chuckled softly. "You okay?"

His voice comforted her and Assumpta lay on the bed and closed her eyes. "Only up sick, but yeah. How's Regan?"

Peter updated her on Regan enchanting all the hospital staff and Katie's surgery going well. When they ran out of things to say, neither wanted to break the connection. His voice was rich. "What are you wearing?"

"I told you I just emptied my stomach into the toilet. How can you possibly find that attractive?" She laughed.

"I didn't ask what you smelled like. I asked what you were wearing."

Assumpta could almost hear the smile on his face. Her stomach protested. Assumpta wished she could play along but she just felt awful. "Ah, well ya see, my secret lover just left and he's completely exhausted me."

"Next time tell the Bishop hello from me."

"Where's your daughter? You better not be saying these things in front of her."

"She's sleeping. I miss you." Peter's voice was still warm but now a hint of sad and longing was there too.

"I miss you too, Honey." She rarely used such words; it was much more his style. "But it'll only be until tomorrow."

His wife, always the reasonable one, Peter thought, and then said goodnight.

Peter never knew that subconsciously the sound of Assumpta's soft, even breathing comforted him. His arm across her gave his sleeping mind peace and reassurance that she was safe and near, and those two things were what allowed him to rest peacefully each night. Now every hour or so he'd wake in a panic, knowing she wasn't in the bed.

This time he woke also because Regan was crying and he crossed the room to her and lifted her.

"Come 'ere angel. I know, I miss Mum too." He went back to bed and lay on his back with Regan lying across him. Her head turned to the side with her ear to his chest. The baby could hear the sounds of her Dad's heartbeat and along with the gentle rise and fall of his chest, it helped rock her back to sleep immediately.

Peter's fingers smoothed his daughter's soft hair, the same color and feel of Assumpta's. He spoke to Regan in soft tones, much the way he did in the first weeks and months of her life when the baby woke in the night.

"What would we do without Mum? We'd both be lost wouldn't we? And we've learned a lesson here, angel, never take a trip even a short one without her. We can't survive it on our own because we belong with Mummy."

Peter and Regan returned home the next night and Assumpta was so relieved she took the extra time to cook Peter's favorite meal despite a decent crowd in the pub that night.

After, he sat at the bar with Brendan and Padraig, the three of them looking through some book Peter had bought while away.

Assumpta was ignoring them most of the night, but as the giggles made her realize their maturity level was somewhere below age 4, she decided to take notice of what they were looking at. Assumpta flipped a tea towel over her shoulder and leaned onto the bar.

"Oh for God's sake, Peter, not another one," Assumpta complained. By the cover, it was obviously a book like the dozens he already owned about pregnancy and babies.

Peter didn't even look up. "I needed some light reading when I was waiting around at the hospital. I saw this and I didn't have it already."

She wrinkled her brow at him. "You've got more than Doc Ryan has."

"Books again, Peter?" Siobhan noted as she slid into her seat for the first time that night.

"Refresher course," Peter said absently, turning the page.

The others didn't seem to notice the slip, but Siobhan immediately locked eyes with Assumpta. And Assumpta gave a hint of a smile in response to the unspoken question.

Padraig had the book open to a new page now. Brendan and Peter were looking at it over each of Padraig's shoulders. All three had squinted eyes and confused faces.

"This has to be upside down," Padraig announced and was turning the book slowly as he said it.

Brendan shook his head. "That's not any better."

Peter agreed, "The organization doesn't make any sense."

Siobhan leaned around, got one look at the diagram of lower female anatomy and she began to laugh. The men were still turning the book around in every different direction trying to figure it out.

"Just what are you looking at?" Assumpta demanded, being on the other side she could only imagine what the book was depicting.

"You don't want to know." Siobhan stated, followed with another laugh.

Two days later, Assumpta was at the sink washing up pots. Her stomach was particularly bad right after she ate, then several hours later it would be fine for a while until it was empty again and it would start rolling and tossing like it was now.

Assumpta was becoming irritated. She didn't have time for this. She had a pub to run, a daughter to raise, and a husband who was incredibly understanding. But Peter was acting so understanding that she was beginning to feel guilty. No matter how hard she tried, Assumpta felt her best wasn't good enough for him lately.

Peter walked into the kitchen at that moment and put his arms around her from behind. "I had an amazing day, wait until you hear." But squeezing her right across her middle made it all worse.

"No, don't," she twisted out of his embrace and took several breaths with a hand to her stomach.

"Sorry."

Then she rushed up the stairs and Peter sighed.

He turned to his daughter. "Maybe someday Daddy won't disgust Mummy anymore." He crossed to Regan, lifting her up and snuggled her. "Would you like to hear about Daddy's day? And you can tell me all about your day. I bet you had a snack and a nap…" He wandered out to the bar where Orla was working.

Regan giggled and babbled and captivated the customers. A few who were about to leave actually sat back down and ordered another round.

Orla nudged Peter and said under her breath, "Who knew babies were so good for business?"

Peter had been glancing toward the stairs for the last 20 minutes and still saw no sign of Assumpta. He asked Orla, "Could you do me a favor and watch the till and Regan for a bit?"

"In that order?"

Peter gave her a look and headed up. He found his wife sitting on the bed crying.

"No, don't cry," he pleaded while sitting down next to Assumpta. But after what happened earlier, didn't touch her. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Assumpta was trying to brush it off.

Peter held himself back. He wanted to comfort even though he sensed patience and space was important in the situation.

"Take a bath," he suggested, "and put that stuff on your face, that purple stuff."

"A facial mask?"

"Yeah. And you could paint your toenails," Peter said brightly. She narrowed her eyes at him, questioning. He went on, "Once, you had them bright pink and it was..."

Somehow the strong, capable woman with secretly pink toenails that only he knew about was arousing. But he knew to be careful about admitting that, "Cute."

"Cute?" Assumpta asked with an eyebrow raised, he was a man of a thousand mysteries. But it had managed to dissolve some of the irritation she was harboring.

Assumpta squeezed his hand and said, "You're too good for me, you know that?"


	3. Daughters

Part 3: Daughters

The radio was on and turned up loud behind the bar.

…_So fathers be good to your daughters_

_Daughters will love like you do_

_Girls become lovers who turn into mothers_

_So mothers be good to your daughters, too…_

But Peter turned it down. Instead, he wanted to hear the entertainment of Siobhan and Brendan arguing about a time when they were both in grade six and apparently one of them had a rather eventful birthday party. Few customers were in today, and Peter half-wished Assumpta wasn't away at the doctor right now so he could steal a few minutes alone with her.

"…And you never beat Jimmy Green in a footrace." Siobhan was adamant.

"You weren't there, Siobhan, you were out behind the barn kissing Frankie Byrne."

"I never kissed Frankie Byrne."

"Did too!" Brendan insisted. Peter smiled, thinking how they never had matured past grade six.

"Well, if I did," Siobhan said, "and I'm not saying so. But he was certainly better at it than you." She crossed her arms in front of herself, as if the case were settled.

Across town, Doctor Ryan put Regan's chart down after recording height, weight, and other notes. "She's growing big and strong."

Assumpta was there officially for a check-up for Regan but Michael figured they might as well double up. So he asked Assumpta, "And how are you?"

"Ha," she gave a short sarcastic laugh, "sick constantly but otherwise fine."

"It's a sign of high hormone levels at the beginning and without those levels you'd be at risk of losing the baby." He put the blood pressure cuff around the arm not holding Regan and said conversationally. "If you'd told me you and Peter were trying, I could've put you on antenatal vitamins ahead of time. Its best that way." He pumped the bulb and watched for the twitch of the needle.

Assumpta closed her eyes briefly, and then opened them. "I suppose as I switched her from breast feeding to formula… there must have been a window…" God, she felt like an idiot.

Michael's eyes widened. "This wasn't planned?" He seemed to be holding back a smile, "0 for 2 then?" He took off the cuff and recorded the reading.

Assumpta's eyes went heavenward, as she felt like an irresponsible teenager.

On the way back to the pub, Assumpta's thoughts were spinning. She wasn't like this, and that was the worst part. She'd always been careful and conscientious in her past but something about Peter apparently made her completely not herself. Twice.

But she must be more responsible in the future or they'll end up the iconic Irish Catholic family and she loathed that thought. If she didn't pull it together, Peter was going to start thinking she planned all this to happen to rope him into marriage and make him stay. Just like her mother tried to keep her father from leaving by having a baby.

Assumpta's heart clenched for a second, then she took a deep breath to ease her thoughts. No, she told herself in her head, Peter wouldn't think her capable of that sort of manipulation, he trusted her. It was an honest mistake. Twice now.

We're not my parents, Assumpta told herself, rather unconvincingly.

Siobhan was waiting to talk to Assumpta when she got back, so Peter took Regan. The two friends stepped into the kitchen.

"Some say," Siobhan started, "Peter married you only to give Regan a father." Then she sat down at the table while the landlady busied herself by making tea.

Assumpta had heard these rumors also. It honestly didn't bother her because the more people believed that, the less likely anyone would think Peter loved her around the time Regan was conceived.

Assumpta shrugged. "They could say worse, about either of us, if they wanted too."

"It's obvious to anyone who knows you both that you're in love, very much so. No, I mean to say, that I don't think there's anything wrong with a man marrying a woman he's not in love with for the sake of the child."

Ah, Assumpta realized, this had nothing to do with her and Peter and everything to do with Siobhan and Brendan.

Siobhan took a deep breath. "There's nothing wrong with it, but it may not be the right choice. How would you feel if Peter wasn't in love with you? He's a wonderful father to Regan but if he didn't love you, would it work?"

Assumpta wasn't entirely sure she was an expert at marriage. "You sure you want my advice? I'm well on my way to driving Peter to commit himself or jump a bridge."

"You two have a row often enough but the way he looks at you..." Siobhan searched Assumpta's face for a sign. "Wouldn't it make getting past the disagreements even more difficult if you didn't have that?"

"If he didn't look at me that way? And we didn't love each other?" Assumpta sipped her tea for a moment, thinking. Then, with a touch of sarcasm, "I'm not sure that's the thing that solves problems for us. Historically, it's only created problems."

Maybe it was the earlier thoughts, but for some reason Assumpta was beginning to feel she should talk about her past and her parents to someone, someday, and that it might help. Or maybe Peter's psychology textbooks shouldn't be lying around and giving her ideas.

"You knew my parents, Siobhan, they were very much in love with each other until the day each of them died. But they made each other miserable. Love didn't solve a single disagreement between them."

Siobhan nodded in acknowledgment. After a moment, she said, "Brendan and I… it seems the best choice for Aisling's sake, but I don't know…"

"You don't think you and he would get on well enough?"

"I'm afraid we'll ruin our friendship and nothing means more to me than that— besides Aisling, of course."

"I'd say friendship is a big part of marriage, maybe the biggest." Assumpta offered.

Siobhan gave her a smile, and then changed the subject entirely to avoid any more discussion on her deliberation. "You all right these days?"

"Me?" Assumpta was confused, "Of course."

"You look awful and Padraig said you've been running off like you were about to loose your stomach." Siobhan had her suspicions. Assumpta had yet to verbally confirm them. Therefore, Siobhan was giving her friend an opening, if she was ready. "Have you or Michael got any ideas what it could be?"

Siobhan also hadn't yet shared her suspicions with anyone else, including the lads. That lot had come up with every conceivable reason for Assumpta's behavior lately except for the obvious one. How Padraig could suggest 'Cat Scratch Fever' and never once consider Assumpta could be pregnant, was beyond Siobhan. Even Brendan, who was usually intuitive when it came to Assumpta, had spent hours suggesting outrageous things. Everything else was proposed except a baby, despite Assumpta and Peter being married now for quite some time. Not the brightest group in Siobhan's opinion.

Assumpta was about to say something in response, but they both heard cheering out in the pub. Entering the main room, Assumpta and Siobhan froze.

Assumpta said flatly to Siobhan, "Tell me that they are not conducting a crawling race between our children."

"Yes, it seems they are..." Siobhan too, seemed bewildered.

"Punishment will be swift and merciless." Assumpta said under her breath.

Knowing Peter would be sleeping on the couch that night, well, Siobhan couldn't help but snicker.

Assumpta heard it and turned to her. "Not a brilliant choice using my marriage as a good example, aye Siobhan."

The race ended and money was being exchanged. Siobhan shrugged, "Ah, come on now, Assumpta. Sure it was all in good fun."

"You're just saying that because Aisling won."

Suddenly, a week later, Assumpta hadn't gotten sick through the night or in the hours after breakfast. She was feeling better and better as the morning went on.

At eleven, she poured a few pints for the early customers and was in the kitchen chopping vegetables when her husband walked in fresh from his shower. Assumpta watched the water drops fall from his hair, and as one slowly rolled down his neck, she licked her lips.

"Assumpta?" Peter was trying to figure out why she was looking at him like that.

Assumpta dropped what she was doing, took his face in her hands, and kissed his lips, her tongue demanding entry.

It was like getting hit by lighting for Peter, and he wasn't sure what happened or if he was breathing, but didn't care much. Assumpta dragged him into the pantry and slammed the door behind them. Her hands were all over him, under his clothes, tearing at buttons and zippers and dropping his pants.

"How did you keep your hands off me when you were pregnant with Regan?" Peter asked around her lips, a little sad that he missed this before.

"You were in Manchester when my morning sickness finally ended."

"Right," he gasped as Assumpta's determined hands found him, "big mistake."

"Why are you still talking?"

At the bar, Brendan set down his pencil and crossword. "Where is she? I only get an hour for lunch, not days." Just at that moment, a strange sound came from the kitchen and he and Siobhan looked at each other.

Siobhan asked, "Do you suppose everything's alright back there? Should we go have a look?"

Padraig thought for a beat. Then said, "Nah, they're probably having a row and you don't want to walk in on that. Assumpta'll have your head."

Brian walked into the pub, took a look around, and joined the regulars at their end of the bar. He directed his question generally. "Have you seen Doc Ryan around?"

"He's left for that medical conference in Milan this week." Brendan reminded him. "Are you feeling alright, Brian?"

"Yes, yes, fine," said Brian. But was interrupted by a strangled, low wail coming from the direction of the kitchen and all eyes turned, but no one moved otherwise. "Is she killing live chickens?"

Siobhan noted, "Sound's more like a Mama birthing a calf." But when nothing more was heard, she redirected the conversation back. "If it's not you, Brain, who needs the doctor so?"

"Liam and Donel found a man and he's not speaking."

Padraig asked, with trepidation, "What do you mean, found?"

Brian was telling the others about the man found wandering on the beach in soaked clothes and not talking to anyone at all. While the tale went on, people in the pub finished off drinks and began looking restless.

Brendan was still waiting on lunch and was more than a little worried about Padraig's suggestion of a fight. Brendan reasoned that maybe he could smooth things out between them, and he opened the kitchen door, just as Assumpta and Peter were coming out of the pantry. She looked started but Peter was looking quite relaxed.

Brendan said, "Assumpta, the natives are getting restless."

"Right," she smoothed her skirt, "be there in a second."

Brendan looked back and forth between them. "You two alright? We heard a sound. Siobhan thought you were birthing a calf back here." Peter's face turned pink and Assumpta glared, as if to say that was not at all what it sounded like.

A glint came to Brendan's eyes as he said, "And I'll have the turkey," before he winked and left them alone.

Peter nibbled kisses down the side of Assumpta's neck. "That was fun, same time tomorrow?"

Assumpta rolled her eyes as she started to make Brendan's sandwich. Peter leaned back and reminded, "I promised Michael I'd look in on few of his patients while he is away, but I shouldn't be late."

As Peter started to leave, Assumpta requested sweetly. "Don't work too hard. Conserve your energy for tonight."

Assumpta lay in bed reading as Peter checked on Regan one last time and turned out all the lights for the night. He came into their bedroom and stopped at the end of the bed. She raised her eyes from her book to look at him.

Peter had been planning all afternoon in his head, and now was more than ready to act. His hand closed around her foot and he lifted it from the bed. Peter leaned in, putting a kiss on the inside of her ankle. Assumpta tossed the book aside as he kissed a trail up the inside of her leg. Just as Peter was getting near his goal, fussing could be heard over the baby monitor, and he froze.

"No, not now," Assumpta moaned, and it was not the happy kind of moan, the frustrated kind instead.

"You talking to me or her?" Peter asked and then kissed her once again in a strategic place that made her gasp. He loved that sound.

"Absolutely her," Assumpta said on the exhale.

The fussing became crying. Then got louder and they heard, "Mama," in Regan's baby talk. She was still waking in the night it seemed. "Mama!" Regan called again.

"Don't move," Peter said, "I'll get her settled again."

But Assumpta got up anyway. "No, she's calling for me."

They walked together to the nursery while Peter complained. "That's only because she can't say 'Daddy' yet. Aisling's been saying it for a month now. Regan can say 'pint' but she can't say 'Daddy.'"

Assumpta waved a hand at him, dismissing it. "Padraig spent weeks teaching it to Regan."

When Regan saw them, she stretched out her arms, tears on her cheeks.

Assumpta said, "All right, honey, I'm here," as she lifted the baby. She rocked Regan as Peter watched.

"What do you suppose it is?" He asked.

"I thought it was because I was up sick at night. She could probably sense something was off with the change in routine. But now that it's past-"

"The new phase is much better."

Assumpta gave him a look.

They took Regan back to their room and Peter reached saying, "Give her here. I know what will quiet her down." He lay back in bed with Regan on his chest. Assumpta curled up next to Peter and put a hand on their daughter's back, feeling the rise and fall as Regan breathed deep, relaxed, and fell back to sleep.

"You spoil her." Assumpta accused, for about the three hundredth time.

Peter smiled, "Yeah," not really caring if that was his worst fault in life.

"Sometimes I worry she's fussy because I'm too busy during the day and she's not getting enough of my attention."

"I could put school on hold for a while and stay here during the day to help." He offered.

"No. I want you happy as well." Assumpta sighed. "Besides, it's only the fears of every working mother I suppose. I'm beginning to understand my own mom more these days. She ran things here by herself and raised me and I never thought about how difficult it must have been for her, before now."

Peter took Assumpta's hand and squeezed, encouraging her. Assumpta never spoke of her parents and he wanted desperately for her to feel safe to talk if she wanted to.

Assumpta had been thinking of her parents quite a lot lately. Perhaps it was the pregnancy or the fears she'd been having about her own relationship with Peter. Whatever it was, Assumpta wanted to let go of some of the loss she felt still.

Her voice was quiet and weak. "When I was really small I remember all the fighting. I didn't understand at the time that my father was a drunk, running a pub was too much temptation. My mom tried to put up with him but she wasn't the type to just roll over. She'd yell at him, they threw things at each other. Gards would show up. Father Mac would come the next day, and this is the part I remember clearly, he always convinced my father to stay, not to leave her and me. But it never solved anything because my father would drink still and it would only start again."

"I'm sorry," Peter said. There was both honesty and hurt for her in his voice.

"My mom never stopped loving him, but she drove him away. My father just walked out one day. She never got over him leaving." There was more to this, but Assumpta was emotionally drained now. And the mental blister that wouldn't leave her alone these last weeks was at it again.

In the moonlight, Peter watched his wife and baby girl sleeping and for some reason that song playing on the radio kept repeating in his head.

…_I know a girl_

_She puts the color inside of my world_

_She's just like a maze_

_Where all of the walls all continually change_

_And I've done all I can_

_To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands_

_Now I'm starting to see_

_Maybe it's got nothing to do with me_

_Oh, you see that skin?_

_It's the same she's been standing in_

_Since the day she saw him walking away_

_Now she's left_

_Cleaning up the mess he made_

_So fathers be good to your daughters_

_Daughters will love like you do_

_Girls become lovers who turn into mothers_

_So mothers be good to your daughters, too_…


	4. Unraveling

Part 4: Unraveling

Two days later, Assumpta was in reception helping two couples traveling together whose car had broken down. Padraig was fixing it when the parts came in tomorrow, but she was securing rooms for the night in Cilldargan and giving them the bus schedule over.

Peter was behind the bar, at the end nearest Brendan, Padraig, Siobhan and Aisling.

"Just like last night, my angel." Peter was talking to Regan who was sitting up on the bar facing him, her Dad's hands holding her in place securely. Peter lowered his head to look in her eyes, trying to convince his daughter to show off for his friends. But Regan was having none of it. She clapped her hands and fidgeted.

"Come on now, Da-da…" Peter said with exaggerated enunciation.

Padraig and Brendan were hiding their smiles. Sometimes when they thought of the things Peter did in the context of him being a former priest, they really could be quite funny.

Regan watched her Daddy move his mouth and she put her chubby little hands on either side of it.

"Da-da," Peter tried again and Regan giggled and patted his cheeks. "Show them how you can say it, Regan."

But Regan just liked the attention and she got excited, patting his cheeks harder with all her strength until-

Smack!

"Ouch," Peter said, rubbing where she got him. Padraig and Brendan let loose their laughter.

Siobhan's humor was dry. "Assumpta's daughter would you say so?"

Peter gave them all a weary look.

"Careful," he glanced down to the end of the bar seeing Assumpta walking toward them. He joked with his friends. "One of you gets her temper going and I end up sleeping on the couch."

"Oh, I like having this power." Brendan rubbed his hands together like a villain.

"And Brendan," Peter admonished, "let me remind you that even retired, according to the Vatican I still have a direct line." Peter raised his eyes up, to indicate where that direct line went.

Assumpta came up behind Peter just in time to hear his comment and it stung. Regan reached for Assumpta saying clearly, "Mummy."

Peter appeared dejected as the three at the bar broke out into full laughs again. While Assumpta moved away from the group, with baby in arms, ignoring what was in her heart.

Lately, Orla had been dropping hints everywhere that she suspected Assumpta was pregnant. Siobhan knew, even if Assumpta hadn't confirmed it fully. Now Niamh was going on today, pushing for an explanation for why Assumpta's behavior had been off lately.

Assumpta sighed; she had to talk to Peter about making the announcement soon. It wouldn't be much longer before she began to show anyway.

Brendan was also teasing today, but about her first child. Once again, Brendan was fishing about Regan's parentage.

Assumpta never understood why she put up with so much from him. No one else could get away with the things Brendan would poke at her about. It probably went back to some aspect of her childhood, and how much she appreciated his role in it. But she was dealing with enough of the past lately, and refused to analyze this part of it as well.

Assumpta knew Regan was the spitting image of herself. Therefore, she had no fear that others would believe Brendan was telling the truth when he started in on the possibility of Peter being the father. It was only just annoying her today because this was the third time Brendan was going on about it in so many weeks.

Brendan was speculating for Niamh's behalf. "Wonder if Regan'll decide to become a nun and then change her mind because-"

From the other side of the bar, Assumpta leaned across and grabbed Brendan by the ear, cutting off his comments. She just couldn't take it anymore and she growled, "Brendan. Kitchen. Now."

It was as if roles had been reversed, and suddenly she was the teacher and he was the dunce. Assumpta dragged him along, as Brendan howled a protest. Assumpta let go only once they were alone together in the kitchen.

With obvious irritation in her voice she said, "Will you stop?"

"I'm only teasing."

"I know it, but you could hurt Peter."

Brendan defended himself. "Only he knows I'm teasing too, I do it all the time to him. It's how we men show we care, by being brutal to one another. What did you think we do? That hugging, feelings, women stuff?"

"Brendan," her voice was warning but also tired. She just didn't have the strength to care. "You're right, okay? Regan is Peter's daughter. In every sense. Okay?"

"Huh." There was a long pause. "Well, isn't that something. Never thought he'd have it in him." Then a huge grin broke out on Brendan's face. "How did you mange that, Assumpta?"

She glared. "Do you really want to know the details of the men I've shared a bed with? Can't you get videos to fulfill that interest?"

"I know how babies are made, Assumpta." His tone was just a twinge condescending. "What I'm asking is how it came to start happening between you and him. When?"

She knew Brendan was thinking there was some long affair involved but she refused to supply more information.

"Please, just leave it. I've only told you so you'd stop putting ideas into people's heads. Peter doesn't want anyone to know, to protect Regan."

"And you," Brendan added. "He's protecting you."

"Would you let it go?"

"Yes," Brendan's eyes twinkled, "but only if you tell me the story, I'll bet it's a good one."

"You want to tell me how Aisling came about?" Now panic in his eyes. "Right," she said and turned on her heel, exiting the kitchen.

Peter and Assumpta finally found a night to themselves. Orla sent them up early, offering to close the pub, and Regan was sleeping, at least so far. Peter and Assumpta made love slowly, finally working out all of their pent up frustrations. The thought slipped into Peter's mind afterwards, Assumpta lived up to her promise of making the wait worth it, as his fingers played in her hair.

Assumpta lifted her head from his chest remembering she had something to tell him. "By the way, Brendan knows about how Regan was conceived."

"Now you're talking to Brendan about our love life? Those hormones are doing strange things."

"No." She dropped her head, groaning. "You men are all the same. I mean he knows you're her true, biological father. Brendan was joking and I pulled him aside and told him he was getting too close to the truth."

"I trust Brendan."

"Probably more than you should."

"We can't protect Regan forever but we'll try for as long as we can. I'd do anything for her... and you."

She knew, because of the significance in Peter's voice, that the love he felt for her was real. Peter's involvement in raising Regan also proved his love for their daughter. Assumpta had no doubts in now. It was later that worried her.

"I know. Only sometimes it scares me how safe I feel, just because of you."

"You have no reason to be afraid, Assumpta, no reason at all."


End file.
